


These Were Lies #8: Dawn

by voleuse



Series: These Were Lies [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-07
Updated: 2005-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I will not speak of the undying glory of women</em>.<br/>Nine women Spike used to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Were Lies #8: Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Set after S5. Title, summary, and headings taken from _Not Marble Nor the Gilded Monuments_ by Archibald MacLeish.

_Therefore I will not speak of the undying glory of women.  
I will say you were young and straight and your skin fair  
And you stood in the door and the sun was a shadow of leaves on your shoulders  
And a leaf in your hair -_

 

The first night Spike stays with Dawn, after Buffy dies, she stares him down for a long minute before running to her room.

"I don't need a babysitter," she screams before slamming her door shut.

He slumps on the sofa, stares at the television, but doesn't turn it on.

"Never thought you did," he tells the empty air.

He sits there, unmoving, until Willow and Tara return at sunrise.

*

 

He plies her with three Meg Ryan movies and two pints of New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream.

She takes the ice cream, rejects Meg Ryan.

He clutches _I.Q._ to his chest like a puppy. "What's wrong with Meg Ryan?"

Dawn folds her arms. "Bring me Sandra Bullock, and then we can talk."

She doesn't slam her door so violently this time.

He watches _Sleepless in Seattle_ and wishes he'd kept a pint for himself.

*

 

The next time, he calls ahead.

He arrives at the house with two Double-Doubles, a strawberry milkshake, and Brad Pitt, the early years.

He sets it all in the coffee table for Dawn's inspection.

"I only asked for _Meet Joe Black_," she says.

He shrugs. "Felt like watching a comedy."

"_Interview with the Vampire_?"

"What?" He digs out a pack of cigarettes, then remembers and tucks them away again. "It's funny."

Dawn stares at him, then giggles. "Yeah, I guess it would be." She takes a sip of her milkshake. "Since you're, like, a thousand years old."

"Not even two hundred, thank you," he responds primly.

She rolls her eyes. "Put the movie in."

"Yes, ma'am."

*

 

Over _chow mein_ and _Pleasantville_, he looks over and finds Dawn crying.

"Dawn?" He clicks the television to mute. "What is it?"

She swipes at her eyes, sniffles. "It's stupid."

"It's not," he replies. "Of course it's not."

"Whatever," she says. "I don't want to talk about it."

"All right." He fiddles with the remote, then sits back and turns the volume up. "Whatever you want, Niblet."

She smudges at her cheeks, and he doesn't say anything else.

Half an hour later, her hand creeps over his, squeezes briefly.

When Willow and Tara return that night, Dawn's sleeping against his shoulder.

"Don't wake her," he whispers. "I'll take her upstairs."

Gently, he extricates himself, picks Dawn up, her weight a mere feather.

He takes her shoes off, then tucks her into bed.

She stirs, blinks up at him. "Thanks, Spike," she mutters.

He touches two fingers against her forehead. "Good night, Dawn."

She's sleeping again by the time he reaches the door.


End file.
